


Mellon gwann, missing friend

by floweronabox



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Comfort, Drama, F/M, Fourth Age, Friendship, Gondor, Minas Tirith, Reunified kingdom, Suicide thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22497640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floweronabox/pseuds/floweronabox
Summary: "Aragorn II Elessar's heart was tight, yes, and his fears had names, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took."The begining of the Fourth Age should have been an era of renewal and serenity. But the deaths do not stop and the spirits continue to perish. Most of the funerals will be in Gondor.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel, Arwen Undomiel & Merry Brandybuck, Merry Brandybuck & Aragorn Estel
Kudos: 4





	Mellon gwann, missing friend

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Mellon gwann, l'ami disparu](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22467277) by [floweronabox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/floweronabox/pseuds/floweronabox). 



> Translation of my first story about The Lord of the Ring universe, I'm French so I hope it will be a good work.
> 
> Enjoy!

At dawn, the golden fields of Gondor sparkled warmly under the first lights of the sun. The citadel of the White City overlooked the reunified kingdom by its greatness and beauty, silently watching over the peace and happiness of all. Here and there, armed campaigns still continued against the enemies who survived the fall of Sauron, but that would not last. This is what King Aragorn II Elessar said to himself, on the morning of the Fourth Age, scanning the calm horizon. But despite these hopeful thoughts, his heart was tight and his mind couldn't find peace.

It had been several weeks since he had received any news of the events of the battle of Lezeau against the remaining minions of Sharcoux in the territory of the Hobbits. Aragorn II Elessar's heart was tight, yes, and his fears had names, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. The two Hobbits were close to him, in eight years since the final battle of the Ring at the Black Gate the bonds which united them had not ceased to solidify.

Lost in his thoughts, the king was lulled by the rising sun when a guard came to him.

"Sire, the messengers of Osgiliath announce the arrival of a caravan led by a horseman.”

Aragorn moved further to the edge of the ramparts and narrowed his eyes. His vision piercing the bare plains, he perceived in the distance a movement approaching painfully.

"Sire," the guard said, "it would be Mr. Brandybuck."

Aragorn imperceptibly frowned. What was the reason for this unexpected arrival in the White City? The last reports he had of the battle of Lezeau were however positive. He slowly watched the caravan get closer, enter the grounds of Minas Tirith and climb the seven levels.

Near the majestic White Tree, Aragorn was preparing to warmly welcome those arriving. He was disillusioned, however, when his gaze met Merry's eyes filled with exhaustion but above all, pain and sadness. As the Hobbit got down from his pony with his face closed and empty of colour, the king walked through the distance between them.

"Merry…" Aragorn began.

Before he said no more, his young friend threw himself on him, clutching his waist with his frail arms and burst into heavy sobs.

"My dear friend," the king replied, after a while. "Your pain takes hold of my heart, tell me everything. "

He crouched in front of Merry and his hands firmly on his shoulders conveyed support and compassion. Merry opened his mouth to speak, but his body was shaken by a hiccup and his face closed more behind the tears running down his cheeks. Silently, Aragorn wondered if he had ever seen him torn apart by so much pain and sorrow. His attention went further behind, on the caravan which accompanied the Halfling. Gently, he approached and asked for the driver to pull off the cloth that surrounded the chassis.

His heart already squeezed broke at the sight of the bloody linens and he felt in the hollow of his soul that what he experienced was certainly absurdly tiny compared to what Merry had to live. King Aragorn knew that sensation that a blade was slashing everything inside the body. He had felt it throughout his life, every time he bereaved the loss of a loved one. And without knowing how or why he had to suffer again, he was overcome by a dull anger that lasted for a moment. He had before him yet another proof that existence was unfair and was playing with the most vulnerable. The vision of Pippin's lacerated and lifeless body was unbearable to him.

He folded down the cloth and called the nearest guards, telling them to install the person of Peregrin Took with the greatest care and respect in the bedroom of honour. Turning to Merry, he gently put a hand behind his back, leading him silently inside the King's House. Arwen, Queen of Arnor and Gondor solemnly welcomed them and accompanied them to a quiet place. It was difficult to say that the King's House was not a place of tranquillity, but in the circumstances that arose, it was necessary to meditate on the sidelines of the servants.

And that's where Merry spoke, in a broken voice full of sobs. He told how the leaders of the battle of Lezeau, including his cousin and himself, had managed to repel the enemies beyond the Lands of North to the Hills of Evendim. In short, what the messengers had conveyed in the last report did to Gondor. He also related how, close to victory, the Allied troops had all assembled and forcibly attacked the last enemy battalions. And he also told, in a breath of despair, how they had fallen on camps hidden in these same hills, ambushed and massacred. Their numerical superiority had allowed them to win despite everything, but the violence of the confrontation had left behind only fields of corpses.

And Pippin.

"I had no idea what to do, I didn't know where to go," Merry said sadly. "I had a pony harnessed and I left without thinking about anything else. I had to move him away from this sordid place, I had to heal him, but it was too late…"

He was torn apart by tears and his shaky legs ceased to support him.

"You are at home here, Merry. Your misfortune is ours and we will honour his memory with respect and kindness," Aragorn assured.

"Come here..." Arwen said in a breath, sitting on the floor, going beyond her royal status because in pain, they were all equal.

The Halfling took refuge in her arms, like an injured child, an orphan of his half, his cousin, the only one who would have shared everything in his life and adventures.

A missive was sent across all of Middle-earth, inviting relatives and friends to the funeral. They were solemn and humble, people said few words, women sang. But even the deep, torn beauty of these melodies did not reach Merry's heart. In his empty soul, he was like extinct, and each beat no longer looked like anything but a violent blow from a dagger which was inflicted to him endlessly. He no longer felt the strength to live, he no longer had the desire or the courage. Each breath was a superhuman effort that pumped all his strength.

Aragorn watched helplessly as Merry's mind slowly and painfully fell into the limbo of a mourning that couldn't be overcome. He no longer spoke to him, hardly ate any more, no longer smoked. The few words they exchanged at meal times were flat, dull, for sure, Merry had never been so overwhelmed. One evening then came, very similar to the others and yet so unexpected. The Halfling had not come for supper and when the King of Arnor and Gondor went to his office, he found him standing there by the window. He saw in his posture that something had changed, plagued with pain and despair for far too long. Aragorn could not have said more, but his friend before him was no longer the same, now hermetic to all expression, to all emotion.

They remained in silence for a moment, one staring into the vast fields where the reflections of the moon sparkled, the other stared at him, trying to protect these fragments of soul that he saw dislocating piece by piece.

"I'm going to leave you," Merry whispered.

Aragorn was seized with a deep shudder, there was nothing in his voice, nothing like what he had known. At that moment, he understood that Merry would never laugh again, that there would be no more light in his eyes, no more liveliness in his words, no more originality in his gestures. There was nothing left but an empty, dreary, shell.

"My dear friend, Minas Tirith is your home, stay here without embarrassment."

"I can't take it anymore," Merry whispered, looking up and into his extinct pupils, the man next to him read dull things. "I will leave you because I can no longer live in this world."

"Merry, your soul is clouded by your pain, but you have shown courage and bravery throughout your life," said Aragorn, approaching him. "Your loss is great, do not abandon yourself to desolation."

"When we left the Shire, neither I never imagined staying near the king of a reunified kingdom, nor I would have thought to live each adventure which made our trip. But now that Pippin is gone..." his words stifled in a sob.

Bitter and cold tears ran down his cheeks, he was tired of crying, tired of having to force his steps and his gestures.

"Death is a terrible idea to accept, it is a path among the others, but it is not yet your time."

The Hobbit smiled thinly, probably the last smile he would ever have.

"I could think of hearing our dear Gandalf when you speak."

Then his face closed suddenly. Gandalf, another friend who went far away, with Frodo and all the others.

"I'm not like you," the Hobbit said weakly. "You have your kingdom, your family, your destiny. Your life has a meaning, mine no longer means anything."

Silence followed his words, heavy. Merry plunged back into the dark and lunar horizon and Aragorn was looking for something to say, to do, to dissuade his young friend. But what right did he have? His power in no way legitimized this selfish will to keep him close. And then came this dull bitterness again, symbol of life's injustice in this world which had taken from him all the Halflings he had cherished during his wandering in Middle-earth. He had found peace and stability, but all this tranquillity seemed to him a very sad gain when his loved ones gradually disappeared. At that moment, Aragorn II Elessar decided that no more man would put a foot in the Shire, no more enemy would come to disturb this people who only wanted to live calmly.

Merry turned to him, his eyes wet.

"I thought about asking you for help," he admitted almost ashamed, "but I would suffer more if I placed such a burden on you. Anyway, I was afraid to leave without talking to you."

"I cannot help you indeed, but I will give you all the comfort you want and need.”

"I know," Merry sighed, clutching his waist.

He was saying goodbye, he knew it, deep down. He was going to leave existence, joining his cousin so dear to his heart. He had lived well, he had laughed, loved, sung, cried. When he left the office, he did not turn back. He did not have the strength to face the overwhelmed tears which escaped from the wiped out and closed eyes of his king, his last confidant and friend.

Motionless over the covers, Merry closed his eyes. He thought back to the Shire, its green fields highlighted by the sun, its perfumed flowers and the river lapping. The Buckland where he grew up, its warm festivities. The greatest prank, the greatest trick he had played with Pippin. At this thought, he felt his heart filled with sweetness, he was now serene. Imperceptibly, his soul rose out of his body, eyes closed, he joined a new world, in another time, another age, where, reaching out, he found the malicious smile of his missing friend.


End file.
